


War

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Duh lmao, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Apocalypse, Pregnancy, Reminiscing, Saviors (The Walking Dead) - Freeform, Simon's pornstache, Tequila, sleeping in cars, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-25 21:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16668646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's a war on the horizon, you knew it and Simon knew it. As he makes his preparations, you reminisce on your life together.





	War

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow I enjoyed writing this so goddamn much. Like my Trevor fic, I'm instilling the same rule as before: if this one-shot is well received, I think I could easily make it into a full fic. Or I might just make it one anyway bc I love Simon ugh. Anyway, let me know your thoughts!

I knew that look. I knew it well. He was preparing for war. As he paced the suite, hands occasionally making their way through his thinning hair with visible tension, his eyes were fixed upon the floor. Even as I looked to him, hopeful that he'd react to my concerned smile with his usual assured grin, he just stared ahead wordlessly. Nothing good would come of this. 

Not a thing. 

"Simon?" I inquired lightly, trying to keep my voice as calm and level as possible so as not to disturb him from thought. He'd never laid a hand on me, nor do I think he would, but he was notorious for his temper. Extremely so. 

He glanced at me, catching the concern in my eyes as I opened my mouth to speak again. He spoke over me. "Yes, dove?"

"Are you... Sure about this?"

He frowned, stopping his pacing rather abruptly. "About what?"

"Whatever it is you've got up your sleeve tonight. I know that face, honey. It's never good."

His face twitched the tiniest bit but he collected himself quickly, approaching me in a purposeful stride and reaching me rather swiftly despite having been on the other side of the room entirely. He kneeled in front of where I sit on our bed, taking my hands in his gingerly. He studied my digits, so small and delicate in comparison to his, rubbing them so lightly with his own that it was barely detectable. He brought my left hand to his lips; the sensation of his mustache against my skin sent a pleasant shiver through my body. Detecting this, he shot me a mischievous grin that I immediately rejected with a much less enthusiastic one. 

"I'm worried about you, Simon." I sighed, reversing our positions and taking his hands in my much smaller ones. I held them to the best of my ability, although I felt almost childlike only being able to grip a portion of his hands at once. He, as usual, appeared amused by my efforts-- although it was merely a glint in his eye now rather than the cheesing grin he'd usually display. Only for you, he'd say. Only for you could I be rendered so damn soft. 

"Darling, I assure you," he said, a bit too softly for me to trust. "There's nothing to worry about." 

I didn't believe it. I gripped his hands a bit harder, one in each of my own. His eyes met mine, brown and full of love... and just the tiniest bit of sadness. He was hiding something... But what?

"Simon, what are you hiding from me?" I half-whispered, squeezing his hands in my own. His eyes flashed an emotion I couldn't place as I asked. 

He shook his head, staring at his hand in my grip, studying the way my nails all but raked into his tough skin. "Now, Y/N," he started, the words falling short as I interrupted him. 

"You're not going to try and overthrow Negan, are you?" 

I barely registered a change, but he was an excellent liar. And although I couldn't see the shift, I felt it. His soft smile shifted into that signature overconfident grin, those perfect teeth of his flashing at me expertly. I knew that look, too. "Why would you think that, my dove?"

I pursed my lips, unsure of exactly how to respond. "Because I know you, Simon. I know he hasn't been... agreeing with your way of running things. And vice versa. I hate seeing him humiliate you the way he does, I just--,"

He cut me off with removing a hand from mine (quite forcefully, I might add) and pressing it to the side of my face, cupping my cheek in his large palm. The action soothed me immediately; I always felt better when he touched me. He made me feel safe. He made me feel beautiful. 

"It's being taken care of, lovely," he cooed, his lips curling into a smile that captured both my heart and my nerves so easily. Why was he capable of turning me into absolute jelly with little to no effort?

I sighed with forced exasperation. "Simon... Come on. Don't do anything rash. You're too important right now. To me," I slid my hand along the strong arm laid against my cheek, taking his wrist gently. Sliding his hand down along my curves, I pressed it against my stomach. "To us."

Simon's confident gaze faltered, something it never did. There was a momentary break in his armor, a flash of humanity in his eyes. Negan's right-hand man, for a moment, had disappeared. The cold hard killer, for a moment, had been replaced by something far more gentle. Far less dangerous. 

And then I knew, he'd succumbed. His face contorted into something similar to worry, maybe a hint of anger. "He... Can't keep doing this, YN. I won't let him. They're killing our people. They've made it obvious they're not surrendering. We can't let them live. I won't let them live! I've got too much to fucking risk now. I can't keep my head down anymore."

I tried my best to comfort him, but our position made it a bit awkward. My hand, still resting lightly atop his, closed around it. His eyes met mine, and I could see the conflict there more clearly. His confidence was falling to pieces, at a rate increasing with each month of my pregnancy that passed. Emotions controlled his actions more than anything, something Negan perhaps understood, especially considering the numerous warnings he'd let him off with. He could keep it together well enough out there, but once he was alone with me-- with us? He lost it. 

His confidence. Control. Everything. 

Suddenly, he wrapped his long arms around me, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed so that they could wrap around completely and he could easily press his face into my stomach. In response, I ran my hands through his thinning hair for a moment, appreciating its softness. 

During moments like these, I could forget the cold-blooded killer he was outside of these walls. I could appreciate the softness he reserved just for me.  

He lifted his head enough to speak. "YN, I didn't get the chance to have a family out there. And then the world fell to shit and I became this... Monster who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. And baby, I wanted it all. I'd have done anything and everything to get it." 

I sighed, my fingers massaging his scalp lightly. 

He moved his head so that the side of his face was pressed into me and I could hear him more clearly as he spoke. "And then... _we_ happened."

My breath hitched as he recalled the night it all began. Simon and I had been together for what had to have been years. We were both one of the original Saviors, though he was much more skilled and much more important to the foundation. Me? I was just in the right place at the right time. Negan had a soft spot for me because I'd known him from Before and I just so happened to be a damn good shot with the right gun in my hand. He dragged me along from the early days of his crew to the building of the Sanctuary-- I suppose I was useful enough. Part of me did consider the possibility that he just kept me around as an organic reminder of his life before; this, of course, worrying me of the permanence of my title as a Savior-- Simon's status saved me, however. 

Our Union was in no way romantic. It wasn't eye contact from across the room that sparked pure magic, it wasn't a long few months of flirting that led to a long-awaited session of lovemaking, it was just a long day and a bottle of tequila. 

I don't know if he was attracted to me before or not; we hardly interacted, and when we did, we usually bickered. He made it clear to me on several occasions that he thought I didn't belong in their little group-- even going so far as to set me up to fail a few times in front of Negan. Negan, the all-forgiving saint that he is, somehow found it within himself to turn a blind eye to both Simon's and my personal conflicts. 

 

When we got together, we were stuck sleeping in his Jeep that had conked out on the side of the road. We were on a run that had gone South quickly-- accompanied by seven other guys who had met their demise due to a single unfortunate miscalculation. When his Jeep died, it was dark-- too unsafe to make a half decent attempt at correcting the situation. We decided to camp out for the night, we were close enough to the Sanctuary that getting back wouldn't be an issue in the morning, but because it was too dangerous to venture at night and Negan wasn't expecting us until tomorrow, we decided to stay put. 

"Well, this is just fucking perfect," Simon grumbled, bent over the middle console and rummaging around in the backseat. 

"I ain't too thrilled about it, either, ya know," I muttered, moving as close to the door as possible in an effort to avoid and ignore the close proximity he'd taken when assuming this position. 

Simon made a distinct "ha!" sound as he pulled back suddenly, one arm clutching a blanket and another arm, a bottle of tequila. "Knew these'd come in handy!"

"Uhh, Simon," I started, he cut me off and ignore me in seconds, however. "You a tequila girl, YN?" 

I frowned. "Maybe in my college days, but it's been--,"

"Ah, bullshit. C'mon, I can't be the only one under the influence. And the only way I'm sleeping in this jeep is while inebriated." He held the bottle out toward me, grinning widely. It was a strange behavior to be exhibited by someone who had claimed on several occasions that he hated me and my guts. 

If that were true, it was likely the explanation for his sudden urge to get drunk. 

Having been ages since I'd downed a glass of alcohol, I took the bottle with a moment's apprehension before pressing it to my lips and tilting my head back just enough to consume a healthy dose. I winced at the sensation but welcomed it nonetheless. Simon followed my actions, taking in a much larger amount than I. 

"Why do you keep that shit in here?" I asked, watching him wipe stray droplets of tequila from his mustache. 

He shrugged. "Never know when you'll be stuck on a run with 7 dead men and a sorry excuse for a Savior,"

I laughed humorlessly, sarcasm dripping from every inflection of my voice. "You've made it quite clear that you think my title is purely ornamental. That's fine. I'm sorry our names are continuously drawn together regardless."

"Aw, sugar," he cooed, taking my chin in his hand lightly. "It's not ornamental. Just unnecessary. So you can shoot, what else? You're not threatening, your stealth could sure as shit use some work, and you ain't the spitting image of gracefulness either. You'd be better off as a worker, where do you even get your fuckin' points?"

I growled. "Shut up, Simon."

He didn't. "Listen, sweetheart, no offense-- obviously you've got some use or else you wouldn't be a Savior. I just have yet to see where you fit in." 

I turned to him, pulling my legs into the seat with me so that I could sit on my knees to gain height. I jabbed a finger in his direction, hoping to appear more threatening than I surely was. "Listen, Simon, if half of what you said is true, I would be dead along with the other Saviors who met their fuckin' ends tonight. You know it's true."

He snorted. "You only made it outta there because I intervened."

I grinned. "Why would you intervene? What, ya care about me now or somethin'?"

"What?" He practically snarled, whipping his head to face me. 

I smiled. "You didn't have to save me, Simon. You coulda went for any of the other seven Saviors out there. But you didn't." 

He raised a brow at me, grunting but not replying coherently. "Whatever."

"If," I pressed, "you _did_ save me, as you said, and I _didn't totally_ make it out of there on my own."

"I helped you because you were helping yourself," he snapped. "Those other sorry excuses for Saviors weren't even fucking trying. They just screamed at me like it was my fuckin' job to go after them. You were fighting like hell, of course, I went for you in favor of them. Even if I think your title is unnecessary, you have guts. They didn't. So yeah, I fuckin' saved you."

I grinned, smiling widely from ear to ear. "So-- who's sorrier, then? Me or the seven dead men?"

He furrowed his brows in response, lips wrapped around the opening of the bottle. "Pardon?"

"You referred to both of us as sorry excuses for Saviors, Si. Which is worse-- a non-stealthy, non-graceful, ornamental broad who's good with a gun or seven dudes with no guts?"

He swallowed the liquid, scoffing once it had been downed in completion. He didn't answer, though. 

I hummed in contentment, taking the blanket from his lap and draping it over myself. When I went to adjust my seat so that I could lie down, he grabbed my arm. Wordlessly, I looked into his eyes, brown and full of something I couldn't place 

_Was that... Lust?_

My thoughts were confirmed as he pulled me closer to him, tangling a hand into my hair and pulling my face to his. He kissed me as though he'd never share another kiss in his life-- but with the current state of the world, you kinda had to treat every kiss like your last. 

I kissed back, of course, I hadn't seen any action since before the end of the fucking world. He'd bite my lip, I'd bite his, he'd push his tongue into my mouth and I'd retaliate. He held me to his face, his grip in my hair tightening intermittently a time or two before he released me and pulled away, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. 

I did the same, letting the realization finalize. "Simon...," I breathed, feeling my chest rise and fall as I heaved. I could still feel the ghost of his mustache dance against my top lip, it was a new sensation but definitely not unwelcome. I wanted more. _Goddammit, why'd he have to go and awaken the beast?_

"YN..." He growled, nearly pouncing over the middle console for more. He grabbed my face, both hands planted on either side this time, physically pulling me to him. I grabbed his wrists, though, halting his ambitions. This would have to wait. As much as I wanted it... I refused to let this be another mistake. 

"Why now?" I hissed. "Why are you doing this now?"

He sighed in exasperation. "I'm buzzed and you're pissing me off. Plus, I've barely had any action since the world fell to shit-- we don't ever have to talk about this again, alright? I'm an in the moment kinda man." 

He went in for another kiss, but I stopped him again by grabbing his wrist with a tad bit more force. Or a lot more force. I don't know, I was buzzed too. 

"Ahh- no! What if I don't want that, Simon?"

He looked perplexed, tilting his head to the side. When he had no reply, I sighed. "What if I want to do it again? Talk about it? I'm not a one and done kinda woman." 

He laughed quietly, shaking his head as he did so. "You're really choosin' now to argue with me about this?" 

I shrugged. "What can I say? It's in my nature."

He lunged at me once more, without me stopping him this time. It was a clusterfuck of tongue and teeth, but damn, it was a good kiss. It left my lips feeling damn near sore when he pulled away, the absence of his mustache feeling strangely foreign again. 

He pulled off his shirt, grinning at me as he did so before reaching a long arm down under my seat to adjust it so that it was leaning all the way back. My breath caught in my chest as he crawled over me, pinning me to the seat by lowering the weight of his pelvis onto mine. Still grinning, he spoke in a low voice, "Let's just see how well this goes first, sugar."

 

"You hated me so much," I laughed suddenly, breaking from the memory. Simon, caught off guard, looked up at me from his position between my legs. "What?"

"You hated me. You did nothing but argue with and insult me, you told both Negan and me, CONSTANTLY, that you didn't think I belonged in the Saviors, and you felt so strongly about it that the only way you felt like you could survive a single night in a Jeep with me was by drinking half a bottle of tequila."

Simon scoffed, pulling away just enough to throw me a playful glare. "Does that even matter anymore?"

I chuckled, still running my fingers through his graying hair. "I guess not, Si."

He huffed, returning to his position against my belly. "And for what it's worth, I didn't hate you. Negan was just so damn protective of you and I didn't understand why. You were as disposable, if not more than any other Savior. So why didn't he put you through the wringer like he did everyone else? Send you on runs alone, put you on the wrong end of Lucille when you made a mistake? He never did any of that shit to you and I noticed."

I shrugged, not realizing until then just how deeply Negan's care for me actually ran. I mean, I knew he often took it a bit easier on me than others, but I never noticed the distinct difference in our interactions. But still, I tried to be nonchalant about it. "Maybe I was fucking him." 

Simon suddenly pulled away from me, craning his neck to look at me with one of his signature this-is-a-warning-and-you-had-better-heed-it glares. "Were you?" 

I withheld a smile, finding it hard to consider him threatening while he was nestled between my thighs with his arms around my middle. Oh, and I was kind of incubating his child. 

"No," I said, not a hint of sarcasm in my tone. It was funny at first but joking wouldn't be wise at this point; I needed him to believe me. Who knows what kind of hell would be unleashed if he didn't?

After eyeing me suspiciously for a second or two, he mumbled something under his breath and pressed his face into my stomach once more. I laughed, pulling my hands from his hair and resting them against his shoulders instead. 

"So what drove ya to falling in love with me, Si?"

"What the hell kind of a question is that?" He mumbled, not bothering to move his head.

"I dunno. We didn't get off on the greatest of footing. We fucked once, and then suddenly--," 

He lifted his head again, shifting on his knees a bit. He gave me an incredulous look before interrupting my speech. "Nononono, we fucked once in the Jeep. Then again in the Sanctuary. Then again at my Outpost-- oh, _several_ times at the Outpost --and it was somewhere between all of the sweet fuckings we did that I realized you were more to me than just a fuckbuddy."

I raised a brow. "You sure it took that long?" 

He narrowed his brown eyes at me. "Pardon?"

 

The morning after, we had awoken with our bodies still pressed together in post-orgasmic bliss. I remember waking up to a distinct foreign heat, not being able to place the sensation until I opened my eyes to Simon's sleeping face, snoring softly but not loud enough to disturb me. No, what woke me up was the heat. Simon was a fucking furnace, and although it was surely below freezing at some point last night, his body heat was comparable to sleeping next to a well-made bonfire (which isn't a great idea, from experience).

Groaning lightly, I shifted against his chest which caused him to stir beneath me, tightening his grip around me before frowning and realizing what/who was in such close quarters with him. His eyes opened and within them shone a look of confusion as they settled upon my curious gaze.

"Christ, how much tequila was in that bottle?" 

I snickered, my voice hoarse and sleepy. "Before or after you downed half its contents?" 

Simon narrowed his eyes at me as I sighed and pulled away, rolling over the middle console rather ungracefully with a shiver when the cold air hit me. 

Simon wasn't unaffected by the sudden withdrawal, either, it seemed as he winced at the sudden absence of my body against his. "Fucking hell," he muttered, leaning to adjust his seat and sit up. "I take it you're not much of a cuddler, eh?"

I chuckled, grabbing my discarded clothes from the night before and tugging them on in a hurry. "Not when Bossman's waiting on our return. Oh, and seven more of his men that can no longer be spoken for," I replied, not missing a beat. 

I heard Simon let out a heavy sigh, the following shuffle of fabric indicating that he was also getting dressed. "Yeah, I guess you're right, sweetcheeks. Let's not keep him waiting."

We rolled out, stretching as soon as our boots made contact with the gravel below. "You're not a very comfy bed, Si. I might need to call in a few massages before my back'll ever be the same," I groaned, twisting in several directions before finally feeling a satisfying pop that I would likely regret later. Oh well. 

Simon, unamused by my attempt at banter, didn't reply- instead, popping the hood of the Jeep to see what was what. 

"Ho-lee hell," he said, ending the expletive with a low whistle. Without further explanation, he turned to me. "Alright, girlie, looks like we're walking. You got that bottle of Tequila?"

And so we walked. Luckily, we were amidst the cooler months of Virginia, which made travel on foot much more bearable than it would be during any other time of year. I still hadn't quite gotten used to the sounds of emptiness that comes with the end of the world. It's a silence unlike any other-- it didn't just make you _feel_ alone, it reminded you that you _are_ alone. All alone. Luckily, Simon was a rather chatty partner so it was easy to ignore the eerie ambiance that accompanied being outside of the Sanctuary's walls.

"So, you're a lot more flexible than I imagined," he grinned, unable to keep his word on "not ever talking about this again". I groaned, adjusting the bags thrown over my shoulder. Without sparing a glance in his direction, I replied nonchalantly, "Then you've imagined it before, huh?"

I could see his face screw up in my peripheral vision, eliciting a soft chuckle from me. "I just hope I was up to par with whatever partners you and Negan have been sharing amongst yourselves," I shrugged, only half-joking. 

He snorted, his confident stride unaffected by the comment. "I can't speak for Negan, but I haven't seen a whole lotta action since before all this," he gestured to the surrounding area, including a few decaying corpses not far from where we stood on what was once a highway. "I wasn't saying that just to get you outta those clothes, hun."

I threw a skeptical glance his way. "I have a hard time believing that."

Simon chuckled a bit at my comment, slowing his pace once he noticed I was lagging behind a few steps. "And why's that?"

"You kidding me? You're Negan's right-hand man. If you can't get a girl 'cause of your muscles, you could get one twice as fast with your status,"

He stopped walking, turning to me and raising a brow. "My muscles, huh?" 

I couldn't help the blush that was creeping across my face. "Oh, shut up, don't act like you don't know,"

Simon, the playful smirk returning to his stupid mustached face, chose to play dumb to my pointedness. "Oh, no, no, no, YN-- tell me more about these muscles o'mine,"

I started walking again, my pace considerably faster than before, continuing my path to the Sanctuary. "Shut up, Simon."

"'Seems like I ain't the only one who's been imagining things," he called after me, suddenly picking up his pace as well. He reached me in no time, his long legs making up for the distance I'd managed to put between us. _Well, shit._

I slowed my steps as he approached, turning to him with furrowed brows. "So, you admit it?"

Having caught up, Simon stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could almost feel the warmth emanating from his body. He shrugged in that very _Simon way_. "Gotta think about someone, ya know?" 

I nodded, rendered wordless by the predicament he'd put me in. My eyes fell from his down to his lips. I almost caught myself leaning into him but he moved, turning away from me abruptly and returning his attention to the road ahead. His feet started moving before mine and there were several feet between us when he called back, "C'mon, princess. Negan's waitin',"

 

"Oh, please," he snorted, pulling his face from my stomach once more. "I did not say that."

I raised a brow at him. "Ya sure about that?" 

"Yes ma'am, I am. I believe I said, 'some _thing_ '. Gotta think about _something_. Not someone."

"Oh really?" I snickered, slowing the strokes I was still delivering to his hair. "What kinda _things_ did you think about, then?" 

Still planted in the same position, seemingly unbothered by it, Simon moved his arms from my middle and dragged his hands to my thighs in a slow caress. With a hint of mischeif in his eyes, he replied, "I think we've had this conversation before,"

 

_"What kinda things did you think about, huh?"_ I whispered, gripping the hair on Simon's head as he planted kisses along my pelvis. I shuddered beneath his touch, shaking with nearly every flick of his tongue as he dipped his head back down to my core.

"Well, for starters," he mumbled, lifting his head between his efforts. "This,"

I groaned, bucking my hips against him. "Tell me more," I squeaked, gripping his hair until I heard him grunt. 

He chuckled, pulling away and slipping one of his long fingers into me. I nearly shrieked at the sensation, instead settling for biting my lip as he curled it inward, hitting a spot I had forgotten existed. 

Simon and I were still well into our sneaking around phase, having just arrived back at the Sanctuary not long ago. Negan wasn't ready for us, so we had taken a detour around the perimeter of the factory.

Yeah... A _detour_.

"Fuck, Simon," I muttered under my breath as he continued his semi-slow pace. He was taking his time with me, but I hardly minded-- or wouldn't have, if not for the time sensitivity of our mission. 

"Of course, in my head, you were never splayed out on the ground behind a couple of bushes," he chuckled, watching as I writhed in pleasure at his touch. 

"Oh, y-yeah?" I panted, opening my eyes to glance at him. His gaze caught mine, a flicker of an emotion I couldn't quite identify flashing behind them like the sudden illumination of lightning in the night sky. His rhythm slowed almost to a stop, reaching a pace that could be described as sensual if not straight up distracted. 

I didn't mind, though.

"Well, where the _fuck_ are they?" An unfortunately familiar voice rang out from the building behind us. Simon and I pulled apart from each other hurriedly, so quickly I barely registered the feeling of him withdrawing his hand. He was more gentlemanly than I expected, actually helping me shake the dirt from my clothes and return them to a presentable state. It was a small gesture, but one I appreciated.

We strode over to the building- I was hoping to god that our previous rendezvous wasn't as obvious as it felt and Simon was just wordlessly strolling along, all but avoiding my gaze. I didn't have time to question it, though, because Bossman had decided to meet us halfway rather than waiting for us to approach him. 

"Simon!" He exclaimed, his arms outstretched in exaggerated welcoming as he sauntered over to us. His gaze fell to me, his voice dropping in volume. "Y/N."

We didn't respond; I did catch Simon cast me a sideglance that was just pouring "I told you so", though. Before either of us could speak on the events of the previous night, Negan took the lead of the conversation. 

"Not that I'm not pleased as hell to see you two back ahead of schedule, but it would have been nice to have the whole entourage as well. Where ya hidin' em, Si?" He turned his attention to Simon, standing quietly at full attention to his boss. Well, _our boss._

"I'm afraid no one's hiding anything, sir," Simon began, stepping forward an inch or so. "We ran into a whole horde of the dead. Fled into the woods to try and lose em, 'seems I was the only one smart enough to check the ground for traps," he said, shooting another annoyed glance in my direction. 

Negan raised a brow at his statement, his focus now shifting to me. "Just you, huh? Looks like ole YN here made it out just fine," he remarked, a slight edge to his voice. 

"Yeah, well, she's a fighter," Simon responded coolly, his eyes on Negan. "She made it out, they didn't." 

"I'm sorry, Boss, I wanted to help 'em," I started, stepping forward to match Simon's position. Negan interrupted me before I could begin my next sentence. 

"Don't be sorry, doll, if there were any blame to be placed, it'd fall on Simon. He's my lieutenant, after all," as he spoke, I noticed that his beloved bat was nowhere to be seen. Her absence eased my nerves slightly, but I knew that Lucille was no indication of Negan's ability to do harm if he wanted as much. 

"Right," I replied, stepping back into my former place. "Simon." 

"But," he continued, returning his attention to the lanky bastard beside me. "We've suffered greater losses. I'll just let you two lovebirds get back to whatever you were doin' in those bushes over there,"

 

" _God_ , that was so embarrassing," I mumbled, burying my face into my hands. Simon was still on the floor before me, leaning back to look up at me with a grin plastered upon his mustached face. 

"Negan got a good laugh out of it," he said with a smirk, a hand placed on my knee as he laughed quietly. "I don't think he was even being serious, YN. It was your gasp that gave us away." 

"Oh, bullshit," I laughed, "I did not gasp."

_"You did, too,"_

Both Simon and I all but jumped at the sound of his voice, lingering in the doorway to the suite. That deep, gravelly voice that filled me to the brim with apprehension and Simon with anger. I felt his hand tense on my leg, his grip on my knee tightening to a vice. I didn't say anything, though, letting my eyes flick between the two men. Simon turned his head in the direction of the man, not moving from his position-- whether this was his way of getting through the situation without strangling Negan or demonstrating his disinterest in leaving his room, I didn't know. 

"Negan," I exhaled, my voice coming out as a shaky laugh. "We didn't hear you come in."

He shrugged, his entire leather jacket shifting with the exaggerated gesture. "It was intentional." 

"Do you need me for somethin', sir?" Simon inquired, any politeness in his tone being (quite noticeably) forced.

With that, he ambled into the room, eyes never leaving the two of us. He let out a low whistle, coming to stand just to the left of Simon. "Can't say that I do. What, I can't check in for some friendly conversation with my right-hand man and his lady?" 

"Wife," Simon corrected, his blunt nails starting to saw into the fabric that covered my legs. "Not my lady, boss. My wife."

Negan nodded his head at the comment, that signature grin never leaving his face. "Damn right, Simon. You lucky dog," he remarked, circling his way back to the door. I wasn't sure what he was playing at, but it seemed that both Simon and I doubted that this visit was explicitly casual. _Something is up._

"You need anything else, boss?" I called after him, knowing Simon's tolerance for the man was wearing rather thin tonight. He turned, having reached the door at this point. He waved a hand in dismissal, his cold eyes meeting mine. I couldn't read him as well as I once could-- years of being at the center of his own imperium had changed him, as it would anyone, I imagine. It was a shame. We weren't necessarily close before the end of the world, but pulling through it together brought with it a sense of camaraderie that felt exclusive to us. Falling into Simon's bed drove a wedge into those days, however, yet I could never figure out why. 

It always came down to Simon. 

"I can see I've interrupted somethin'," he said, his gaze making me feel smaller and smaller. "I'll come back." 

And with that, he was gone. Simon's vice grip on my leg disappeared as the door all but slammed shut; he rose from the floor, resuming the pacing that I had pulled him from only moments ago. I reached to catch his arm as he pulled away, but I wasn't quick enough, our skin barely brushing as he walked the length of the room in a considerate stride. 

There was a war on the horizon. I knew it and Simon knew it. And I think Negan knew it, too.


End file.
